


C'mon Kid

by kopperblaze



Series: Hobo!verse [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Community: bandom_meme, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-13 20:13:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopperblaze/pseuds/kopperblaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snippet of the early days of Frank living in the streets</p>
            </blockquote>





	C'mon Kid

**Author's Note:**

> Not betaed. Excuse any mistakes. 
> 
> Inspired by this prompt at the bandom prompt meme http://bandom-meme.dreamwidth.org/5544.html?thread=261800#cmt261800

"Are you getting on or what?" 

Frank blinks and slowly, mechanically, shakes his head. The bus driver huffs and rolls his eyes. The doors of the bus close with a hiss. 

Frank watches it drive away, tail lights disappearing in the night. He keeps looking into the distance long after the bus has gone from view, mind empty as he sits on the bench at the bus stop. There is nowhere for him to go, and even if he had wanted to get on that bus, he wouldn't have had the money for a ticket. 

Reality hits Frank hard then and he starts to laugh. Fuck. He doesn't have the money for a bus fare. A bus fare. He can't afford. . . Frank's laugh turns into a chocked of sob and he buries his face in his hands. Fuck. 

At least his mum isn't around to see that he broke the promise he made before she died. He isn't fine and he's incapable of taking care of himself. Working two shitty jobs didn't pay the medical bills she left behind. The fact that he didn't show up to work after nights of trying to fill the hole she left behind with alcohol and pot didn't help. Selling his childhood home barely covered half of the debt. 

Now he's got nothing left. Frank exhales shakily and scrubs at his eyes, refusing to let tears escape. He'll be fine. He'll work it out. Eventually. 

Grabbing his backpack Frank gets up from the bench and starts walking, ignoring the painful cramping of his stomach and the aches in his body. He's always cold and sleeping in cramped positions. It feels like his body has rapidly aged over the past few weeks. 

"Hey man, you got a cigarette to spare?" Frank puts on his best smile as he passes a guy smoking outside a restaurant. He tries to keep up appearances, but you can only clean up so much in restrooms, and it shows. The guy wrinkles his nose and purses his lips, like he's looking at a fly and trying to decide if it's worth the effort to squash it. 

"Please?" Frank adds, swallowing against the bitter taste of despair. He's not asking for money, just a fucking cigarette. It's not that big a deal, the guy looks like he has enough money to buy all the cigarettes he wants. 

"Fine," the guy grits out and pulls a cigarette out of the pack, holding it out to Frank pinched between his thumb and forefinger. 

Frank takes it and tries not to let his smile waver. Not when the smell of food from the restaurant makes his stomach grumble and not when the guy pulls his hand back quickly, like he's afraid of touching Frank. 

"Thanks, appreciate it," Frank mutters and turns away, pulling his shoulders up high as he walks. He fumbles his lighter out of his pocket and lights the cigarette, inhaling slowly. This is the only thing akin to a meal he'll get for the night. 

A few days ago Frank found out that the laundromat near McDonald's is open 24/7 and he hasn't been kicked out so far when spending the night there, so it's a better place than most. It's relatively warm and the people there keep to themselves. 

Frank finishes his cigarette, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet in a futile attempt to ward of the cold. It's only October, he doesn't even want to think about what things are going to be like in January. 

Flicking the cigarette butt to the ground Frank exhales the last drag he took slowly before stepping into the laundromat, letting light and warmth and the sound of washing machines welcome him. There's a free spot on the bench by the wall and Frank curls up there, using his backpack as a pillow. The few things he owns are in there and he'll be damned if some asshole steals it while he's asleep. 

Closing his eyes Frank tries to relax and believe that tomorrow things are going to be better.


End file.
